Friendship Strained
by JantoJones
Summary: Napoleon's wandering eye leads to danger for Illya.


Barely able to hold himself upright, as he kneeled on the cold concrete floor, Illya cursed the name Napoleon Solo. He'd always believed that the American would get himself killed because of his wandering eye. As it turned out, it was the Russian who was to be a casualty of Solo's libido. Illya had prevented his partner from being taken by a woman who had turned out to be Thrush. In rescuing Solo, Illya had managed to get himself caught in her clutches. As with most of the women in the evil organisation, she turned out to be almost psychotically sadistic, as the injuries he now carried could attest to.

Illya looked up at the woman who had turned Napoleon's head. Her name was unknown to him, but he would never forget the smile on her face; if he survived. His eyes were drawn to the numerous jewelled bracelets which adorned one of her wrists. The cost of each one of the gemstones would have supported his family for a year. The jewels were so captivating as to almost make him forget the gun she had trained on him.

"Well, my dear," she said, in a clipped English accent. "You are proving quite useless to me. Should I just kill you, or wait for your friend to try and rescue you? He was my initial target after all."

"He is no friend of mine," he gasped, spitting blood from a broken tooth.

He regretted the words the moment they left him, but his partner's part in his situation had made him extremely angry.

In the corridor outside, Napoleon arrived just in time to hear Illya's pronouncement. He closed his eyes against the words, knowing that he was entirely to blame. For all the danger the two of them had to put themselves in, Napoleon would never deliberately get his partner hurt. He knew, however, that there were times he allowed his concentration to slip, and Illya was about to pay the price for it. Turning to the two agents he'd brought with him, Napoleon indicated for them to search the rest of the building. He was going in for Illya.

After checking his weapon to ensure he had loaded sleep darts, Napoleon burst into the room and shot Illya's captor. As she fell, she made to kill Illya, but Solo was able to get across the room and push her away before she could.

"Are you okay, Tovarisch," he asked, dropping to his knees in front of the Russian.

"Help me up," Illya demanded.

It took a while, but Napoleon was able to get Illya to his feet. He swayed about alarmingly but, when Solo tried to guide him out, Illya pushed him away with as much force as he muster. Napoleon watched in absolute sorrow as his friend made his slow, steady way away from him.

Illya spent two days in medical, during which time he refused Napoleon access. Solo had attempted to pull rank, but he had no jurisdiction over a doctor who didn't want his patient upsetting. During his stay, Illya made no fuss, and did everything the medical staff instructed, which was a worry to everyone. He knew his behaviour towards Napoleon was, at best, childish, but he wanted to hurt him. The very fact he felt this way made him feel even more wretched.

Napoleon was the person who knew him better than anyone he'd ever known. He trusted him with his life and thought of him as a brother. At that moment though, he wanted nothing to do with him. Even when it was time to discharged, he'd ensured that Napoleon would be elsewhere as he was taken home. It was almost a week and a half before Illya had any contact with Napoleon; despite the American's many attempts to speak to him.

Solo was preparing dinner for himself in his apartment when there was a knock at his door. It was the coded knock he and Illya had developed so he knew who it was before he opened it.

"I have something to say, Napoleon, and I do not want you to speak until I am done."

Solo stepped aside to allow Illya in. He had dreadful feeling that his friendship and partnership was about to be ended, and the fault of it was his alone.

"First of all, I wish to apologise for my conduct recently," Illya began. "I have behaving like a child."

Napoleon opened his mouth to tell him he had no need to apologise, but Illya's glare stopped him.

"I have almost been killed many times," Kuryakin continued. "Several of those times were to save your life, as was this last time. It is something I will do whenever necessary, but this time should not have been necessary. I know you have an eye for the ladies, Napoleon, but if you had been thinking with your head, rather than your dick, you may have realised what that woman was sooner.

I know that my getting hurt was not something you intended. You are my friend, and my brother, so I know you would not do such a thing. I would simply like to ask that you take more care in the future. Not just for my sake, but for your own also. I do not wish to have to get used to a new partner."

Napoleon's heart soared at Illya's final sentence, but he managed not to show it.

"I'm truly sorry, Illya. I hope you can forgive me."

Smiling slightly, Illya reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of Napoleon's favourite scotch, and handed it to him.

"If I am not mistaken, that is supper I can smell cooking."


End file.
